


You Are My Sunshine

by hailsatanstyles



Series: Flower Shop AU [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Fluff, M/M, flower crown!Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 17:13:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/839351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hailsatanstyles/pseuds/hailsatanstyles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry works at a flower shop and uses his resources to get his classmate, Louis, to fall in love with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Are My Sunshine

On the corner of 5th and Baker Street sits a luscious garden, with long shoots of baby blue catmint plants lining the sides, and cascading baskets of white wave petunias hanging from the lampposts that are placed every few feet until a path opens to a small thatched roof cottage.  A towering black gate that is intricately designed with floral patterns, and even has real ivy growing and curling around the iron protects the garden.  The gate is always left open though, for visitors.  It’s not unusual to find a primary school-aged girl reading a tattered book on the bench closest to the white roses, or a boy from the local university with bright trousers sitting on the edge of the fountain at the center of the garden, nervously tapping his foot.   The garden is a type of safe haven for the people of the town.  In the cottage, an older woman, Kitty, runs the local flower shop.  It’s been handed down from generation to generation, and used to be an apothecary during the 1800s. 

 

The shop is small but gets good business from the townspeople who don’t believe much in change.  If they’ve been going to the shop for their whole life, and their parents before that have too, there’s no doubt the garden and the cottage will forever be valued.  Now that Kitty has gotten into her late 70’s her granddaughter, Dahlia runs it when her own mother is out of town.  They also have help from a uni student who nearly begged for a job amongst the flowers.  In the history of the garden, there has never been an employee who was not blood related, let alone a boy for that matter.

 

-

 

“Quit sulking Harry, I’m sure he’ll come to visit.” 

 

“He’s not coming to _visit me_ , Dahlia.” Harry rolls his eyes, pushing away from the counter where he had been gazing out the front window, chin in his hand.  “He’s coming to get the coursework he missed this week.” 

 

Dahlia is standing at a wooden table fixing up a centerpiece for a wedding that’s to be delivered tomorrow.  They look breathtaking, with orchids that are dyed a color that fades from midnight blue to violet and square gems placed at the center where the petals meet.  Her sunflower yellow hair is tied in a messy bun atop her head with a white bandana pushing back her choppy bangs.  Sometimes she looks quite unconventional, what with dying her hair each month to match the different colors dahlia flowers are available in, but she’s good, if not extraordinary at what she does.  “You like him quite a lot it seems.”  She muses, wiping at her brow, smudging sparkles across her skin. 

 

“Shut up. I do not.”  Harry grumbles, grabbing the broom and sweeping around her feet, clearing out the pile of stems and leaves.  “That would be stupid.  He thinks braces are cool, why would I think that’s-”

 

She turns to fix Harry with a knowing glare and pursed lips, her pixie-like features making her look like Tinker Bell when Peter protects Wendy. 

“He’s just so beautiful. It’s not fair, Dahl!”  Harry moans collapsing in a chair they keep in the corner by the table.  “And those braces,” he lets out a low whistle, “what I’d like to do to him when he’s wearing them.”  He pretends to snap the invisible material against someone’s skin.

 

Dahlia puts down the clippers she was using on the stem of a bouquet of baby’s breath.  “I’ve got a crazy idea, Curly.  How about you _tell him how you feel_.”  She’s looking down at his limp form in the chair with her hand on her hip.  Though Dahlia is only two years older than Harry, she acts like a mother hen more often than not.  “You’re completely infatuated with the lad, just give it a go why don’t you.”

 

Harry pouts his lips and crosses his arms over his chest, “Easy for you to say.”

 

“It is, because I’ve got a plan.”  Her pink lips spread into a brilliant grin, and Harry can’t help but smile back, because Dahlia’s plans always, _always_ work.

 

-

 

The hallways in the main building on campus are empty signaling that he’s late to his afternoon class for the third time this week.  Harry picks up pace, practically running to class as best as he can while carrying his 800 page sociology textbook.  He trips into the classroom just as his professor begins their lecture on gender stereotypes.  The other students look up at him, some with smug smirks on their faces as he the door clunks behind him and he goes to take his seat.

 

“Mister Styles, nice of you to show up today.”  Harry winces as he tries to sneak to the back of the room as quickly and quietly as possible. 

 

Harry falls into his chair, putting his book on the tabletop, “Sorry, Professor.” He mutters under his breath, trying to get everything organized.

 

The professor continues with his lecture, writing on the board in chalk that normally stains his suit pants. 

 

He’s got his head bent over his notebook, copying the lecture down word-for-word, trying to make up for his otherwise more un-scholarly behavior.  Harry is not a bad student.  He’s actually a straight A student.  It’s just, living on your own away from your family is expensive, and he’s got the job at the florist to pay for his living expenses while he’s going to uni; it’s quite the double standard to do both and sacrifice your education just to afford it.  He had been helping Dahlia all morning and afternoon, putting the finishing touches on the wedding arrangements and had to load up the delivery truck and bring it to the venue.  “You’ve got dirt on your cheek.”  The boy sitting next to him is leaning over to whisper quietly, pointing to a spot on his own cheek.

 

Harry grins at the boy with the blue eyes that crinkle at the sides.  “Thanks Lou.”  He licks his thumb and rubs the spot where Louis had told him the dirt was.  “Gone?”  He mouths quietly.

 

Louis nods his head and flicks his fringe away from his eyes. “You’ve also got flowers in your hair.”  He comments, looking back at his own notebook to resume the outline he was making with his lip quirked up at the corner.

 

Harry is wide eyed as he pats his curly hair, feeling for the flowers until he realizes he hadn’t taken off the flower crown Dahlia had made him as she finished up the bridesmaids bouquets.  That’s why his classmates were staring at him oddly. 

 

“Oh.”  He breathes, nodding his head awkwardly acknowledging that he knows it’s there. 

 

The professor ends the lecture and the whole class is packed and leaving before Harry stops doodling daisies on the corner of the lined paper of his notebook.  “Class is over, Harry.”  Louis is hovering over him with a fond look on his face and his messenger bag slung over his shoulder. 

 

“Right. Yeah.”  Harry shakes his head, closing his book and gathering his belongings and standing up till he towers over Louis.  He pushes in his chair, and follows Louis out the door.

 

Louis bumps Harry’s shoulder as they make their way down the hall.  “So, you like flowers?”  He asks, smiling up at Harry. 

 

“Yeah.  I work at The Garden, y’know, down on the corner of Baker and 5th?”  Harry says, holding the building door open for Louis.  They walk across the Great Lawn and make their way towards the dormitories. 

 

“Everyone knows The Garden.”  Louis scoffs.  “Didn’t know you worked there though, thought you just liked to hang out there.  Explains the flower obsession, I guess.”

 

Harry’s cheeks turn rosy with embarrassment.  “I needed to help pay for school, and I’ve always helped my mum do the gardening so I figured it’d be a good job for me.” 

 

“My favorites are sunflowers.”  Louis says, fixing the way his bag rests on his shoulder.  “Always so bright and cheerful.  Reminds me of summer.”

 

Harry could see Louis’ favorite being a sunflower, because he’s right, they are bright and cheerful, just like Louis.  Always willing to smile and offer compassion, while also being wild and almost larger than life.

 

“Mine are forget-me-nots.”  Harry offers, figuring Louis would want to know his own favorite in return.

 

Louis reaches up on his tiptoes to touch the woven crown of blue and white buds that lay on his brown, unruly curls.  “That’s these, I reckon?” He asks, genuinely curious.  “I don’t know much about flowers.  Usually just appreciate them for their aesthetics.”

 

Harry points a long finger to the small petals of the flower that are a muted light blue with a blazing yellow center.  “You’re right though.  Thoreau called it a modest flower.  Maybe that’s why I like it, plus there’s tons of folklore on it.”  Harry continues, “I think the quote is something like, ‘It is the more beautiful for being small and unpretending; even flowers must be modest’.” 

 

They stop walking outside of the dorms, Louis leaning against the marble column outside the doors, gazing at Harry’s lips then back to his clear, green, almost blue, eyes.  For once Louis is almost speechless, because Harry knows so much, and his slow paced voice makes everything he says that much more wonderful, and the way his eyes light up with excitement makes Louis want to kiss him.  “You’re interesting.”  Louis finally bursts out.  “We should get tea one day.” He offers.

 

Harry splutters, grabbing at the back of his neck and looking at the ground, all blush and innocence.  “Tea.  Yeah, uh,” He stops stuttering, scrunching his face trying to compute that fact that Louis said he, Harry Styles, is interesting.  “Yeah.  That sounds great!”  He gushes.

 

The smaller boy brushes his hand against Harry’s hand,  “Good.  Wednesday, I’ll stop by The Garden and we can get tea at the shop next door.  Maybe your boss will give you an hour break to have a cuppa and a chat.”

 

He turns to walk away but Harry calls out,  “Wait!”

 

Louis looks back with raised eyebrows, “Yes?” 

 

“I have the work you missed from class the other day.”  Harry struggles with his books to get the paperwork out of a folder he forgot he had with him.  “You never came to pick it up yesterday.”  He outstretches his hand, a stack of packets for their next paper hanging loosely in his grip.

 

“My savior.”  Louis chuckles, taking the papers from Harry.  “Sorry about that.  Was still feeling sick.  Hope you didn’t wait around for me.”

 

“I was working anyway so it’s no big deal.”  Harry waves Louis off.

 

“Thanks, Harry.  I really appreciate this.”  With one last grin, Louis turns and walks into the building.  Harry watches the soft mousey haired boy amble away, the bright red of his trousers fading as his form gets smaller and smaller.    

 

Harry sighs, “Yeah, don’t mention it.” 

 

He can’t wait to get back to The Garden to tell Dahlia what happened.

 

-

 

“See, you didn’t make a complete arse out of yourself!  I knew you had it in you the whole time, Dumbo.”  Her long fingers playfully slap at Harry’s shoulder.  “This Tomlinson lad sounds completely smitten with you.”

 

Harry ducks his head to hide behind his fringe, “Oh shut up.”

 

“Not that I could blame him,” Dahlia continues with a faux-dreamy toned voice, “you are quite the charmer.  And those dimples,” she skews her finger into the crevices in his cheeks, “who could resist!” 

 

Harry hates when she gets like this.  Totally dramatic and dorky, sarcastically swooning over him as if the sun and moon both revolve around his existence.  He swears she’s more in love with Harry’s romantic life than her own.  She turns around to the worktable, cutting angles at the stems of roses and sticking water tubes at the end of them to make a bouquet for sale.  “Now, _Wednesday_ ,” Dahlia punctuates the word with her clippers, pointing them at Harry, “I will give you the day off to bask in the glory of young love.”

 

Harry makes a contented noise and stands up to wrap his arms around Dahlia’s waist for a hug.  She smells like flowers and hair-dye, and its familiarity brings a smile to his face.  “Thanks, Dahl.”  He says.

 

“On one condition.”  She warns in a wicked tone. His whole body freezes because Dahlia may be fairy-like in all respects, but she is actually a demon sent from Hell.  She grips his shoulders and pulls him out of the hug so he’s looking her in the eyes.  “You two have your chat and tea in the garden so I can spy.”  She’s positively beaming at her own cleverness.

 

“Fine.”  Harry groans.  “But don’t invite Kitty to spy on me.”  He says, Dahlia nodding in agreement. “Or your mum.”  He continues, counting off the people on his fingers. “Or Mick.” 

 

“Why would I bring Mick?”  She cries exasperated, taking the bouquet to the row of see-through refrigerators where they keep the arrangements. 

 

“Because your boyfriend is your partner in crime and you lot love to act like my life is a participatory daytime special.”  He states matter-of-factly following her through the cottage.

 

“Oh hush, Styles. Do you want my help with the boy or not?”  Dahlia questions him with a quirked eyebrow and hand on her hip.

 

Harry bows his head in defeat, “Yes.” 

 

“If you still like the bloke after Wednesday, send him sunflowers to his dormitory.  But do it in a secret admirer sort of way, yeah?  With a cute little note and all.”  She suggests cocking her head so her shock of yellow bangs fall into her dark blue eyes.

 

“I’m only doing it if I can pick what to say in the note.”  He bargains, crossing his arms in a defiant way.

 

She scoffs, walking past him to help an older woman who’s walked into the cottage,  “As long as you don’t make an absolute tosser of yourself, yeah, go right ahead Harold.”

 

-

 

Dahlia pats Harry on the bum before he walks out the cottage door to meet Louis at the teashop.  “Good luck, Darling.”  She coos.  “Don’t forget: Be your _self_ , be _yourself_ -” She singsongs as he walks away.

 

“Yeah.”  He rolls his eyes fondly and closes the door behind him.  He can practically feel her stare through the window as he makes his way through the garden.  _Always so bloody nosy_ , he thinks.  Louis is leaning against the tall iron gate at the entrance.  The warm rays of sun are reflecting against his already bronze skin, his hair already has streaks of lighter, almost blonde, hair.  He looks calm and cozy, patiently waiting for Harry with crossed arms. 

 

“Hi.”  Harry calls as he comes up from behind.  Louis turns around, his fringe falling slightly out of place after being startled.  “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you!”

 

Louis shakes his head and rubs his arm awkwardly.  “It’s fine, I’m just naturally jumpy.”  He bares his teeth in that warming smile Harry loves so much.  “ ‘S good to see you.”

 

“Let’s get some tea, yeah?” He nudges Louis with his shoulder.  “Miss. Paula makes the best peppermint cuppa I’ve ever had.  Even better than my mum’s.”

 

Louis scrunches his face as they walk down the sidewalk towards the shop, almost brushing hands.  “Peppermint tea? No peppermint tea allowed, Harry!  That’s for losers who can’t make a true cuppa.”  His face is smug as Harry holds open the door to the shop for him, the bell above it ringing cheerfully.

 

“Just try it Lou, please.  I swear you’ll change your mind!”  Harry pleads.  “I’ll even order what you like, so if you don’t like it you won’t be upset.” 

 

A middle-aged woman with soft wrinkles around the corners of her eyes and chocolate brown waves falling over her shoulders stands behind the counter. “Harry, how’re you sweetheart?  Haven’t seen your curly mop around here in a while, hope Dahlia isn’t working you too hard next door.”  She reminds Louis a lot like his mother, sweet and coddling.  Harry seems to bring out the best in people, making their laughs easier, and smiles more open and real.  Louis feels a fondness tug at his heart as he watches the curly haired boy interact with who he assumes is Miss. Paula.

 

“And who is this?”  She asks, gesturing to Louis happily.

 

“I’m Louis.”  He says, shaking her hand firmly with a smile.

 

She eyes Louis up and down with her hazel eyes. “Gorgeous boy you are.”  Paula comments sweetly, holding his hand in her warm ones.  “What can I get you two today?”

 

“Well one of the usual please, and, uhm,” Harry turns to Louis with his eyebrows scrunched together silently asking what he deems the ‘perfect tea’.

 

“Regular with two sugar and cream, please.”  He fills in the order for Harry.

 

Miss. Paula fusses over them for another ten minutes before she lets them leave, each clutching a warm cup of tea in their hands- Harry with the regular and Louis with the peppermint.  “I promise you’ll like it.  Promise.”  Harry repeats, hovering over Louis as he goes to gingerly take the first sip.

 

Louis savors the fresh yet sweet taste in his mouth before swallowing.  Surprisingly Harry’s right, and Miss. Paula does make the best cuppa in town.  “Delicious, Harold, really.  Wow.”   

 

“Brilliant!”  Harry cheers excitedly.  “Yours is good too.”  He compliments, taking a long drag from his to-go cup.  They approach the gate, and Harry has a quick moment of panic.

 

“I’m about to do something weird, but I promise it’s for our well-being.” Harry warns, laughing nervously.

 

Louis bares his hands, cup in hand.  “Nothing too weird for the Tommo.”

 

Harry nods his head in agreement, curls flailing wildly.  He presses his pointer finger to his red lips, signaling for Louis to be quiet and grabs Louis by the arm, pulling him into the corner of the garden.  He presses his back against the brick wall that encloses the garden and stealthily makes his way out of sight until they reach an offshoot where there are roses and archways woven with ivy.  At the center of the separate garden there’s another fountain that is much larger and fancier, surrounded by stone benches.

 

“That wasn’t too weird.”  Louis notes, letting Harry lead him by the hand through the shaded archways.  “It could have involved bananas.  Or my nipples.”

 

“Or bananas _and_ your nipples.” 

 

“Or bananas and your-”  Harry lets go of his hand and clamps a hand over Louis’ mouth.

 

“Whatever you were about to say, don’t say it.”  There’s an intense blush creeping up his cheeks, making him blotchy and nervous.  “I don’t think I could handle it.”

 

“As I said,” Louis starts, “nothing is too weird for the Tommo.  You’re weak, Styles.”  He puffs out his chest in mock-pride.  Harry almost feels as if they’ve always been friends.  There’s no awkwardness between the two of them even though they’ve only hung out during class, and in passing when Zayn is around.  Harry feels like he can be as goofy as he wants, that he doesn’t have to put any walls up the way he normally would. 

 

“You’re a funny little man.”  Harry says once they sit down on one of the benches next to the fountain.  There are streams of water all shooting from the edges of the fountain, contributing to the deep square pool of water where a cast iron replica of the London boundary dragon rises from the center. 

 

“You’re one to talk, flower child.”  Louis counters sipping his tea.  He’s taking in the natural beauty of the garden.  He’s been to the garden quite a few times, but he never knew of this section.  It’s quite hidden from the public, and perfect for privacy.

 

Harry puts his cup down on the freshly cut grass beneath his feet.  “I’m hiding you from my co-worker, just so you know.”

 

“And here I thought you were bringing me to your lair to test my chastity.”  Louis’ mouth quirks up at the corner with mischievous intent.

 

“Not on the first date I’m not!”  Harry defends, looking offended.

 

His eyebrows raise with curiosity, “So is that what this is?  A date?”

 

Harry chokes on air and Louis pats his back laughing.  He’s spluttering, trying to figure out what to say.  If he says yes, Louis could be freaked out, if he says no and Louis thinks it is, everything goes to shit.

 

“Harry, Jesus, calm down I was only kidding.”  Louis says playfully, getting up off the bench and hopping down the steps until he reaches the fountain.  “Come here, flower child!  I have a surprise for you!”  Louis is toeing off his red Toms as Harry approaches. 

 

“I feel like I shouldn’t trust you…” Harry says wearily. 

 

Louis smirks in a way Harry’s only seen on Dahlia when she has an evil plan concocted.  “Geronimo!”  He calls out wildly before jumping into the fountain from the edge; his arms flailing as he crashes into the pool of water.

 

Harry’s gaping at him from the side until Louis surfaces.  He’s treading water and flicking his hair away from his eyes.  “What?”  Louis asks, “I was hot.  You look hot too.”  He observes, skimming his arm across the surface so a spray of water soaks Harry’s white v-neck.

 

“I’m going to be in so much trouble.”  Harry mutters as he kicks off his boots and socks, jumping in after the boy who radiates sunshine and mischief. 

 

They spend the rest of the afternoon lazily swimming in the fountain, and lounging on the grass, letting the sun infiltrate their pores.  It’s the best Harry’s felt in a while.

 

 

-

    

“All rights you originally had to captaining this potential relationship have now been revoked, Styles.”  Dahlia says throwing a piece of lined paper in the trash bin, Harry chasing after it desperately, pulling it out and smoothing the edges.

 

“Why!” He cries looking affronted.

 

She purses her lips and narrows her eyes at him in a way that can only be described as accusing.  “First,” She huffs angrily, “you hid in the damn rose garden yesterday, so I didn’t even get to see the lad, you mangy little mutt!”

 

Harry can’t even deny that she had imagined him hiding from her.  She had said _have a chat and tea in the garden_ , “You never specified where!”  He objects.

 

She silences him with a delicate finger to his lips, “And,” she continues her rampage, “ _Are you a camera? Coz you make me smile._ ”  She mocks, making grabby hands at the paper Harry is clutching to his chest.  If only she could she’d use laser vision to burn the paper so the Tomlinson boy never has to read such nonsense.  “You’re a bloody moron.  You can’t write that and expect someone to want to be your boyfriend after it.”

 

He sits down on the wooden workbench and kicks a few stray stems at Dahlia’s ankles.  He has no clue why he asked for her input anyway, besides the fact that she’s dated loads of guys, and has a serious boyfriend at the age of twenty-five; she knows the ropes.  Stupid pretentious asset she is.

 

“He thinks I’m funny though.  I can be stupid like this and he laughs, and his eyes crinkle, it’s not fake, Dahl!  Not like with Robert!”  Harry has his hands folded in his lap in a resigned manner, gently stroking the note with his thumb.  “It’s not the same.  I can tell.”

 

“Oh, love.”  Dahlia says softly, moving towards Harry, and pulling his head of curls into her side, petting his hair.  “I’m sorry.  Didn’t mean any harm.  Robert was cruel to you, had no right dragging your heart around that way.  I’m sure Louis will love the note and your cheesy attempts at courting him.” 

 

Harry smiles up with happy eyes that are slightly red-rimmed.  “I’m going to have Zayn drop it off at his room for me.  They live on the same floor and play FIFA together all the time.“

 

“Sounds brilliant, Haz.”  Dahlia coos, twirling a curl around her finger then stepping away.  “Now go water the garden.  The flowers are looking absolutely parched lately.”

 

-

 

It’s their last class of sociology and Harry is finally on time.  The professor is making his rounds, collecting each student’s final paper, and giving him or her the final exam to take.  Harry’s clutching his pen tightly in his hand, going over definitions in his head, and mouthing the words soundlessly to himself when the professor gets to him.

 

“Mr. Styles, praying won’t help you much now, if that’s what you’re doing.”  He looks down at Harry with a knowing smile, and takes his ten-page paper on the decrease in marriages in the younger generations, exchanging it for a test packet.

 

When the professor does the same to Louis and walks away, he feels a soft hand gently squeeze his thigh and Harry smiles down at his paper, circling the right answer.  He knows it was Louis’ way of telling him _don’t worry about it, you’re going to do great._

 

After Harry’s thoroughly convinced he’s gotten an F on the final exam, he hands in his test sheet, and slouches against the wall next to the vending machine outside the classroom, waiting for Louis to be done.  Finally the door opens and Louis shuffles through with a dazed expression on his face.  The door clicks shut and Louis releases a low whine.  Harry rubs his shoulder soothingly, guiding him down the hall away from the classroom.

 

“It was terrible.”  He squeals, burying himself into Harry’s side.  “Nothing made sense at the end.  I just circled ‘C’ for ‘correct’.  I failed.  I definitely failed.  I’m a failure!” 

 

Harry rustles Louis hair in a friendly manner, “You did fine Louis.  You’re the smartest in the class.  Don’t say you failed, because that means I’ve got no hope.” 

 

“Can we celebrate this week almost being done?  The stress is killing me!”  Louis asks dramatically as they continue toward the dorms.  The campus is packed with people tanning on the great lawn, most with books or cigarettes dangling from lips.  The warm and bright summer weather has everyone outside, pining for the end of final exams. 

 

“What’d you have in mind?”  Harry asks, trying to quell his excitement that Louis wants to hang out with him again, and is actually leaning against him. 

 

Louis bites his bottom lip gently, “There’s going to be a party on my floor this Friday.  I want you to come.”  He says.  “I mean, if you’re busy, or you don’t want to come, or something, it’s fine.” Louis adds in a faux-blasé tone, trying to hide his desire for Harry to say yes.

 

Harry’s dimples crease his cheeks as he smiles, “Don’t be stupid Lou, of course I’ll come.”

 

“Brilliant!”  Louis laughs, his whole face lighting up and eyes crinkling at the sides.  “Come to my dorm around seven, we can pre-game.  Mine is 4B.”

 

Harry hopes that pre-gaming will include alcohol as well as some other extra-curricular activities.

 

-

 

 

Louis is practically dragging his leather messenger bag against the tiled floor as he makes his way down the hall to his dorm room.  He’d been at the library since breakfast so he could revise for his late afternoon exam for theater history.  Louis has never been a student who is good with memorizing dates and titles, and that was exactly what the exam was.  What date did this show premiere, what theater did it premiere at, who wrote the score.  To say Louis flunked would be an understatement.  It’s now seven at night and Louis feels like his head may explode.  There’s blaring machine gun noises coming through the door to his dorm, and he braces himself before letting himself in.

 

“Don’t hit me with the remote, Niall.  What the fuck!  It’s not my fault I’m a genuinely better COD player than you.”  Zayn’s leaning halfway off the futon so Louis’ roommate Niall can’t hit him in the head with X-box controller. 

 

“Hear- me- roar- mother- fucker.”  Niall shouts, punctuating each word with a jab of the controller to different parts of Zayn’s frail body. 

 

Louis is shaking his head and unloading his bag of his textbooks onto his desk.

 

“Just because you’re blonde doesn’t mean you’re a Lannister!  You’re not even naturally blonde!” Zayn shrieks, rolling off the futon and crawling into the kitchen area.

 

Niall starts a one-player game and calls over his shoulder, “Tell me I’m a Tyrell one more time, Malik.  I swear to God.”

 

Zayn ignores Niall and looks up at Louis from the floor.  He’s all soft black hair and wide-eyes today, unlike his typical bad boy quiff and brooding scruff.  “There’s something on your bed for you.”  He notes.

 

Louis’ eyebrows shoot up in question but Zayn just shrugs, standing up and launching himself over the futon onto Niall’s head.  Louis is surrounded by idiots he decides as he enters his bedroom.  He kicks his shoes off in front of his wardrobe then plops down on the bed, savoring the feeling of his muscles relaxing into the mattress, forgetting all the stress that came with the day.  There’s a single sunflower wrapped delicately in cellophane with an ocean-blue ribbon tied around it to form a bow, sitting on his pillow.  He sits up and sees the small envelope attached with a pin that simply reads, _Louis,_ in neat handwriting.  This is the second sunflower he’s received and both have had cards that remained unsigned at the end.  Louis breaks out into a grin; having a feeling he knows exactly whom the wonderful flowers are coming from.    

 

Pulling the pin to release the envelope, he rips it open and reads the note written on a carefully folded piece of notebook paper.

 

_Don’t worry about doing crumby on your exams. You’re the smartest cookie I know! xx_

Louis lies on his back smiling so hard his face aches; the card clutched to his chest.  “You look stupid when you’re smitten.”  Niall says from the doorway.  

 

Louis reaches to his nightstand and throws his deodorant at Niall’s head without getting up.  “Get out of here, Horan!”

 

“Glad to see love has not melted your cold, cold soul.”  Niall cries, ducking out of the room.

-

 

It’s late and Dahlia is doing the final sweeping before closing up shop for the night.  It had been a slow day and her feet are aching in the ugly running shoes her fiancé bought her, _to support the arches of her feet_.  Bunch of bollocks that is, she thinks.  Wrapping her magenta hair into a messy bun atop her head she unloads the cash register to bring the money to Kitty before going home. 

 

She’ll never admit it to Harry, but days when he doesn’t work are the worst for her.  Convincing her grandmother to allow the boy to work at the shop had been one of the best ideas she’d had in ages. 

 

One day, out of the blue, this lanky, unruly looking boy stumbled onto their doorstep begging for a chance to work in order to pay off his schooling.  Kitty had told him that the garden was for him to keep, as it was for the rest of the public, but a job was out of the question.  Dahlia had seen a certain brightness in his young face and startling green eyes though, and Kitty relented.  His high spirits and dedication have bettered the shop.  Dahlia loves him like a brother now, enjoying every second of watching him grow up amongst the flowers.

 

It’s lonely on days he’s not here- no slow drawl telling aimless stories, or infectious laughter.

 

Dahlia locks the door to the cottage and pockets the key.  The lampposts lining the garden’s path are casting yellow light across the quiet landscape, and all that can be heard is the trickling of the fountains.  As she passes the small circular fountain before the gate, she notices a university boy sitting on the ledge, holding a cup of tea in one hand, with one other cup placed next to him.  He glances up at Dahlia expectantly, as if he were looking for someone. He fixes the strap to his braces and his blue eyes drop in disappointment.

 

There’s an ache in Dahlia’s heart because the boy looks lonely and rejected; the second cuppa turning cold next to him waiting for someone else. 

 

“Goodnight, Love.”  Dahlia says, giving the lad a warm smile.

 

He looks up, the glow of the lights casting shadows across his boyishly handsome face.  “G’night.”  He replies.

 

 

-

 

It takes Louis an hour of seriously mulling over the crazy, stupid idea he has until he finally decides to leave his dormitory to walk to The Garden.  He wanted to see Harry.  More specifically he wanted to thank him for sending him the sunflowers.  Louis faces the conflict of not knowing for certain if Harry has been the one writing the adorably cheesy notes and leaving him his favorite flowers.  He thinks Harry’s the only person he knows who would be that sweet and charming.  It doesn’t help that Louis has had a crush on the boy with the wildflowers woven into his curls since the fall semester.  He’d be over the moon to know for certain it was Harry.

 

He passes Miss. Paula’s teashop on the way, and even though it’s late, the door is still propped open with customers chatting at round tables.  Peppermint tea sounds like the best thing in the world to Louis right now, even though the summer heat is almost uncomfortable. 

 

Before he even reaches the counter, Miss. Paula is calling out to him. “Louis, how are you!  Such a lovely surprise, honestly.” 

 

“I’m great, Miss. Paula.”  He replies with a smile.  Louis has only met the woman once, but he loves her and her maternal nature.  He especially likes that she remembers him by name.  “Can I- uh- have two of what Harry normally orders, please?”

 

The crow’s feet by her eyes crinkle as she leans across the counter,  “The secret to Harry’s peppermint tea is one packet of sugar and a dollop of whipped cream.  Tastes like heaven.”  She busies herself at the machines, running hot water into to-go cups and fixing up the tea.  “Told the boy he was a dolt for wanting to ruin tea with whipped cream the first time he came in here.  He begged me to try it, and I did.  Never could resist those dimples.  Been trapped drinking that tea every day since.”

 

Louis knows how Miss. Paula feels.  Those dimples, and that smile, and those eyes are the exact reason he’s here in the first place, not back at his dorm playing FIFA with the lads. 

 

She hands him the two cups.  “On the house, dear.”         

 

“No.”  Louis objects trying to give her the money that’s between his fingers.

 

She crosses her arms over her chest.  “I won’t hear of it; not today.  You can pay next time.”

 

“Thank you!  I’ll see you soon.” 

 

“Take care of my Harry, yeah?”  She asks with a fond, knowing smile.

 

He nods, returning the smile.  “Of course.”

 

Louis decides to wait in the front part of the garden instead of his and Harry’s secret spot.  When he gets off his shift, this would be the way he’d walk in order to return to campus anyway.  As Louis sits on the edge of the small fountain he notices the warm lights of the cottage glowing through the windows, the shadow of a person moving around visible.  He puts Harry’s cup on the stone next to him and casually sips his own, letting out a satisfied noise upon swallowing.  He’s nervous, his whole body thrumming because he wants to see the boy with the flowers in his hair; wants to hug him and thank him and make him feel loved.  Harry’s done that for him, it’s the least he could do in return.

 

It’s getting late and the sun has basically set, casting the flowers into darkness.  Louis has finished his tea, and he silently curses himself for getting Harry warm tea when he knew he’d be waiting a while.  He hopes he doesn’t mind.

 

He’s tapping his foot to a beat in his head and absentmindedly snapping the strap to his braces against his shoulder when he hears the door to the cottage shut.  The person approaching him is much too short and girly to be Harry.  Louis heart drops when the pixie-like girl with magenta hair is no longer a silhouette of a person.  _Definitely not Harry_ , he thinks.  He adjusts the strap that fell over his shoulder and eyes the ground like it was the earth’s idea for him to come and see Harry-, which was a stupid, stupid idea.

 

“Goodnight, Love.”  Her voice tinkles in a way that sounds almost sympathetic and he doesn’t much like that he looks like a loser who got ditched.  It was nice of her to acknowledge him though, so he decides to reply.

 

“G’night.”  He says through a tight smile.

 

She continues on down the path until she turns onto the street, out of sight.  Louis isn’t mad.  Just embarrassed that he was now the guy who sits outside of someone’s workplace, waiting for them to get out like a dog without a home.  He doesn’t even know if Harry likes him, or if he’s the one sending the thoughtful anonymous flowers.  Louis feels like quite the idiot, and makes his way back to campus, pining for the party Friday, when he’ll next see Harry.

 

      

 

-

 

 

 

Harry’s milling about the shop, unloading boxes of newly arrived flowers and sorting them into the row of refrigerators as Dahlia takes her lunch break.  The local pop station is playing an old Katy Perry song, and Dahlia is quietly singing along in between sips of her red bull.  When Harry crosses back over to the work area, she sizes him up from her spot on top of the counter where she’s kicking her legs against the cabinets. “You know,” she starts,  “there was the cutest lad in the garden when I was closing shop the other night.  You two would look absolutely perfect together.”  She sighs, imagining Harry side-by-side with the uni boy from a few nights earlier.

“Yeah?”  He grunts uninterested, taking a box cutter to the next set of roses he has to unload, ripping off the wrapping.

 

“Yeah.”  She replies, hopping off the counter.  “Listen, if things don’t work out with sunflower boy, you should try your luck with this one.  He looked like he got stood up on a date anyway.”  To Dahlia, Louis is ‘sunflower boy’ because she likes to pretend she doesn’t care about Harry’s love life, when it’s actually quite the opposite.

 

Harry sighs and turns around to face her.  “I like Louis.  Quit trying to hook me up with every fit guy who walks into the garden, Dahl.”  He snaps at her.  Harry didn’t mean to act rude, he’s been working so much lately and he’s bone tired if he’s being completely honest.

 

“Don’t be such a brat.  Everyone needs some sweet lovin’ once in a while.  Who better to give it to them, than you, Harold.”  She takes his face in her hands and squeezes his cheeks.  Something catches his eye and he grabs Dahlia’s wrists so he can inspect her hand.

 

“ _Hold on_.”  He drawls slowly as her takes in the white gold ring with three stone set of princess cut diamonds that’s now gracing her left ring finger, “Did you get engaged without telling me?  You fucking get engaged, and don’t tell me, and I’m the brat?” 

 

Dahlia smiles and laughs weakly, pulling her hand away.  “I was going to tell you Haz, promise!  I just wanted to wait since the whole sunflower boy thing has been so exciting for you.”  She’s worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, and Harry feels bad that she thinks he’s actually angry with her

 

“C’mere.”  He says, latching onto her in a tight hug.  “Congrats, Dahl.  Mick’s one lucky man.”  She nuzzles her face into his neck and thanks him.

 

“I’ve actually been meaning to ask you something.”  She says, looking up at him. 

 

“Yeah?”

 

Dahlia is absolutely radiating happiness and Harry’s kicking himself for not realizing she was engaged before.  “Will you be my Man of Honor?”

 

Harry feels his eyes water with pride for his best friend.  She deserves all the happiness in the world and he knows Mick will give her that and then some.  “Of course I will.”  

 

“Good.”  She huffs contentedly as if she were worried Harry would say no to her.  “Now sit down and let me make you a flower crown, you’re practically done with unloading the shipment anyway.”

 

Harry obeys, thankful for being able to finally sit down after hours of carrying heavy boxes.  “I want the small misty pink gerber daisies, Dahl.”

 

“Okay, bossy.”  She clucks, but runs her hands through Harry’s curls gently using her fingertips to sort through them and rub soothingly at his scalp.  Harry’s eyes involuntarily close at how good it feels.  He’s always loved people playing with his hair; which is part of the reason he hardly minds Dahlia’s flower crown experiments.  She begins weaving the stems of several mini daisies together, each separated by small clusters of white forget-me-nots, Harry’s favorite.  While she quietly uses her thin fingers to tie and weave, Harry unlocks his phone screen to check the time.

 

“I’m meeting Louis at his dorm tonight for that party.”  He says, trying to sound casual.  Dahlia notes the anxious lilt to Harry’s voice.  “I have to be there at seven he said.”

 

“If you fuck, for the love of god, please don’t bring him here to do it.  Leave my flower beds out of your little rendezvous.” 

 

Neither of them can keep a straight face at that though and they dissolve into laughter.

 

-

 

 

After twenty minutes of pacing outside of Louis’ dormitory, Harry finally gets the nerve to climb the steps between the marble columns; trying to squash the doubts circling in his mind.  He can’t help the thoughts of _maybe he’s changed his mind_ , or _what if he doesn’t like me,_ or _I hope he doesn’t think I’m goofy looking._   Louis is so grand and beautiful, and Harry’s sitting here trying to win him over with sunflowers and dumb notes.  It’ll never work. 

 

The floor Louis lives on already has music pumping through some of the rooms; Harry can tell that the smooth R&B is coming from Zayn’s.  It’s still early for blaring house music, but most of the kids are pre-gamming before the actual party starts so there’s shouting and laughing seeping through the halls.  Harry knocks on the door of 4B like Louis said and waits, dragging his teeth along his bottom lip, glancing up and down the hall.

 

He hears a muffled Irish accent yelling from behind the door, “Louis, no!  Don’t make an idiot out of yourself just-”

 

The door is flung open and Louis is standing there beaming from ear to ear.  “Harry!  You came!”  He flings his arms around Harry’s neck while he stands on his tiptoes.  “You look beautiful Harry, so glad you came.”  There’s a boy with bleach blonde hair and muddy roots standing in the doorway with a hand covering his face in shame for Louis.

 

“Sorry mate, if you can’t tell, we started drinking without you.”  The boy says.  “C’mon in then.”

 

Harry has to pry Louis off of him and leads him back into the dorm.  He can smell the alcohol rolling off of Louis is waves.  “Here Harry,” Louis drags him down into a chair at the kitchen table.  “Let me get you something to drink.” 

 

There’s clinking of glassware and bottles and Harry takes in the dorm.  It’s one of the few suites on campus and how Louis and his roommate managed to snag it is beyond Harry.  They even have their own bathroom instead of having to use a communal one.  The blonde sits across from Harry at the table and sizes him up with friendly blue eyes.

 

He leans over to Harry, “He was afraid you weren’t coming so he started drinking to distract himself.”  He keeps his voice low so Louis won’t hear him.  Harry doubts he’d be able to hear over the fumbling noises of him trying to get Harry a drink, and him humming ‘Walking on Sunshine’. 

 

“ ‘m Niall.”  The boy offers his hand across the table, and Harry takes it with a grin.

 

“I’m Harry.”  He supplies.

 

Harry notices an empty champagne bottle on the table with two of the sunflowers he sent Louis placed in it with water.  He bites back a smile because _Louis Tomlinson_ liked the gift he sent, and has it on display in his kitchen.  His heart flutters thinking of Louis’ dainty hands unwrapping the cellophane and picking out the perfect bottle for the thick stems, proudly displaying it for all his guests to see, looking at them as he eats his breakfast. 

 

Louis slams two shot glasses in front of Harry, spilling some of the tequila on the wood table.  “Two shots to loosen you up,” a beer bottle slams down next, joining the glasses, “and a beer to keep the buzz.”  He plops down on the chair next to Harry and uses his finger to aimlessly trace Harry’s knee in his black jeans.  Harry takes the shot to calm his nerves, wincing as it burns a path down his throat and into his stomach. 

 

“You have to make me a crown one day, they’re so gorgeous.”  Louis says as he gently reaches up to run his fingers along the petals of the flower crown Dahlia made for him just before he left.  “Absolutely darling.”  His blue eyes are crinkling and Harry feels Louis warmth in his bones.

 

Harry tilts the second shot glass back and swallows the tequila down, trying to figure out if Louis is looking at him with that look of absolute fondness because he can’t be.

 

He clears his throat to quell some of the burning.  “Dahlia my coworker normally makes them, but I’ve made a few myself.  I want to make you one Louis.”

 

“Good.  Brilliant, actually!”  Louis squeaks in excitement.

 

Niall makes a gagging noise to show his disgust at Louis’ heart-eyes as Zayn bounds through the door with a few friends.  The door lets in the sound of blasting music, signaling that the party is starting. 

 

“Harry!  Harry’s here!”  Zayn shouts, moving over to him to wrap him in a hug that sways them both back and forth.

 

Zayn lets go of Harry and tackles Niall onto the couch, “Let’s get fucking wasted!”  They yell together at the ceiling.

 

-

 

To say drunk would be an understatement.  The dorm room they’re in is smoky and vibrating with people dancing to the music.  Louis can’t feel his gums anymore and the sweat beads off of his hairline down his face.  If Louis stops dancing to the beat the floor feels like it will drop from underneath his feet, so he clings to Harry for dear life, grinding his hips and mouthing at his collarbones through the v of his shirt.  He needs to feel the realness of Harry underneath his hands, his lips, his hips.  He needs Harry so the world doesn’t drop from underneath his feet.  He needs Harry.

 

When Louis looks up at him, his curls are matted to his forehead and his head is tilted back as he sways under Louis’ touch.  Louis can’t think of anything more attractive than his square jaw and the lines of his neck straining against his pale skin, illuminated by strobe lights and lasers.  Louis pants against Harry’s neck trying to steady himself but he’s too hot and his pants are too tight and Harry’s writhing underneath his grinding hips.

 

Louis tugs Harry down by his shirt, “I could go for a swim.  How ‘bout you?”  He can practically hear the mischievous intent in his own voice and he can’t help but laugh at himself.

 

“Y-Yeah.  Definitely.”  Harry chokes, green eyes glassy and bright even in the dark room.  “Let’s go.”  Harry’s hand finds Louis’ and he’s dragged from the random room into the hallway that’s packed with other students.

 

They stumble out of the building into the muggy summer night and Louis leans his body against Harry’s as they continue down the road together towards the garden.

 

-

 

Normally Harry could walk the streets from the university to The Garden with his eyes closed, but right now his limbs are clumsy and forgetful and Louis is hanging from his arm singing a folk song Harry vaguely recognizes as a story about a boy returning to his lover.  He nuzzles his face into Louis’ soft-soft hair.

 

“I’ve liked you since I first saw you.  Did you know that?”  Louis slurs as they walk through the wrought iron gates of The Garden.  The air is heavy with a dense fog    from the humidity and lack of rain, the yellow glow from the lampposts struggle to illuminate the path. 

 

Harry clears his throat a bit at the drunk confession.  “Yeah?”  He asks, hoping to spur Louis on.

 

“You were so eager about everything and you could tell how excited you were based off of how bright your eyes got, and you didn’t care about coming to class with flowers in your hair or about the dirt on your face and under your nails.”  Louis’ hand slowly moves from gripping his arm until his fingers are entwining with Harry’s and Harry’s heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest.  They make their way through the archway tunnel of ivy and roses towards the dragon fountain and rose garden.  Louis stops walking and Harry sways on his feet at the lack of motion.

 

“You’re genuine,” Louis is looking up at Harry with his ocean-blue eyes,  “and you’re beautiful, and sweet-”

 

Harry wraps his arms around Louis’ waist and leans down to connect their lips so he can stop the litany of praise falling from Louis’ thin lips.  It’s chaste and gentle even though Harry wants so much more.  Their lips move against each other in a slow rhythm, Louis’ arms around Harry’s neck, fingers fiddling with the brown ringlets.    Louis sighs out a breath, burying his head into Harry’s chest when their lips part.  “What I was trying to say was- thank you for the sunflowers, Harry.”

 

He can’t help the grin that breaks out on his face.  “You deserve it, Lou.”  He says, because he does.  Harry doesn’t know anyone else more deserving of every good thing in the world.  Louis is this great beacon of light in Harry’s life, and he was always friendly to Harry even when the rest of the kids in his classes wouldn’t bother with him because he was too weird.  He likes Harry even though he’s dirty from his job, even though his stories go on too long sometimes, even though his jokes are corny. 

 

“Kiss me again you cheese ball.”  Louis says laughing and turning his face back up to slot his lips against Harry’s.  Harry runs his tongue along Louis’ bottom lip, biting at it gently, then captures it back in his own.  The soft noises coming from Louis are enough to drive Harry mad.  His hands travel down to the base of his spine until their grasping his ass.  Louis bites back at that, licking Harry’s mouth open and pushing his body into the wall of the archway, knocking a shocked breath of air out of Harry.  Their mouths move messily together because of the alcohol, but it’s perfect as it can be.  Harry pulls away, and both of them are breathing heavily.

 

“Race you to the fountain.  Last one naked in the water loses!”  Harry crows, scrambling from Louis’ grasp and stumbling down the gravel path tearing at his clothes.

 

Harry leaves a trail of clothes through the rose garden and pulls his boxers off before diving naked into the depths of the dragon fountain.  The sounds of the world wash away while he skims the bottom of the fountain, stretching his arms in a paddle.  He breaks the surface and takes in a excited breath as he shakes his curls away from his face to see Louis stark naked, hollering as he cannonballs into the water.  Louis comes back to the surface and laughs loudly, dragging a hand down his face to wipe away some of the water droplets.

 

“I lost!”  He shouts, paddling over to where Harry is standing in the shallow part by the jutting pedestal for the statue.  “What now?”  He asks with a smirk.

 

“I think now I’m supposed to tell you to do something ridiculous as your punishment.”  Harry muses.

 

Louis puts his hands on Harry’s shoulders and leans up to press their mouths together, open mouthed and needy.  His tongue swirls against Harry’s and his bare skin is pressed flush against Harry’s.  Needy noises escape Louis’ mouth as their cocks rut together in the water.  “I don’t think this counts as ridiculous, as much as I don’t want it to stop.”  Harry murmurs against Louis’ lips.

 

The water droplets bead together on Louis’ eyelashes and roll down the crinkles by his eyes when he blinks, smiling.  “You’re beautiful, Harry.” 

 

They’re both slightly drunk, but they’re sober enough to know what they’re saying and doing.  Harry can’t stop his toothy grin or the rapid pace of his heartbeat. 

 

“You’re beautiful-er.”  Harry replies pressing sloppy kisses down Louis’ cheeks then to the tip of his nose, until he reaches his lips again.

 

Louis pulls away, and Harry is so happy that he’s at the receiving end of the fond look Louis has plastered to his face.  “I’ve got an idea.”  He says before he scrambles up onto the pedestal, leaving Harry in the water.

 

It should be ridiculous- tiny Louis scaling the seven foot tall dragon statue stark naked.  It really should be, and Harry should be telling him to get down from there; but Harry loves the spontaneity of it all. 

 

“You’re mad!”  He shouts up to Louis, who now has his arms wrapped around the neck of the dragon, sitting on its back. 

 

“I’m not mad!”  Louis yells back.  “I’m king of the world!”  He whoops, spreading his arms wide, pretending to ride the mythological beast.   

 

-

 

Louis is snatching up the pieces of clothes he can find, tugging on his striped boxer briefs.  “It’s raining!  It’s raining! It’s fucking raining!” 

 

He can hardly hear his shouts or Harry’s infectious laugh over the roar of the downpour or the thunder.

 

The sky is turning a mix of purple and blue hinting that the sun’s about to rise.  They’d spent all night out in the garden as their drunkenness turned to a type of love drunk; floating in the water with their hands clasped, stealing kisses and playful touches.

 

Once he’s half dressed, he’s being tugged by the hand and led through the archway of roses.  They’re running and laughing, tripping over each other until Harry flops on the ground in front of the cottage where there’s a slight overhang to misdirect the rainfall.

 

“Too tired to go back to the dormitory.”  Harry says with a sigh, stretching out on the moist grass like a cat readying itself for a nap.  Louis can hear it in his slow drawl that the night has caught up to him, and he finds himself yawning as well.  “Hope you’re okay with sleeping on the ground?”

 

“More than okay.”  Louis replies, curling up against Harry’s chest.

 

He falls asleep to the steady thrum of the rain and Harry’s deep breaths, his arms wrapped protectively around Louis’ middle.

 

-

 

There’s still water droplets rolling off of the petals of the flowers, and glistening on the blade of grass as Dahlia walks through the garden to get to the cottage for opening.  Struggling to get the keys out of her canvas bag while simultaneously holding her morning tea, she gasps when she looks up.  On the ground outside of the cottage is Harry, curls matted to his forehead, cuddled with the boy she had seen days earlier.

 

She can’t help her smile when she sees how young and content their faces look as they sleep with soft breaths.  Dahlia clucks her tongue at the picture of young love and let’s herself inside, doing her best not to wake them.

 

-

 

Louis finally makes it through his front door at nine in the morning.  His entire floor had been a wasteland of abandoned clothes, piles of sparkles, and broken bottles.  His dorm doesn’t look much different, except Niall and Zayn are sleeping on top of each other on the futon.

 

On the kitchen table there’s a new sunflower wrapped with the same ocean blue ribbon as the first two.  There’s a note attached to it labeled _Louis_ , in what Louis now knows is Harry’s simple handwriting.  Opening the note, he rubs a hand over his face to try and wipe the splitting grin off his face.

 

The note reads:  _Will you, Louis storm-born, father of dragons, be my boyfriend? xx_

Louis can’t imagine anything better.

 

-

 

one year later

 

-

 

Louis is struggling to fit the key into the door of his apartment with six different bags from the mall hanging off of his arms.  His grey braces are slipping off his shoulders and with a final jiggle of the doorknob the door gives way, Louis stumbling through the threshold.  There’s music playing from his bedroom, one of the coffeehouse stations that strictly play only indie-folk music, Louis notes.  He takes three of the bags and puts them in the hall closet before making his way through the kitchen.  On the dining room table, there’s a crystal vase with a bouquet of sunflowers with a rather large bottle of champagne next to it with a card in a pale pink envelope.

 

 _Louis_ , the ‘I’ dotted with a dorky little heart, is written on the front.  This time when he opens it there’s a proper card, not folded up notebook paper, and the inside has a photo of he and Harry taped into it.  They’re on the beach with sun kissed skin, Louis’ arms wrapped around Harry’s middle, looking up at Harry with a wide smile, his eyes crinkled, while Harry has his head thrown back in a laugh.  Louis remembers the day well, they decided at the last minute to take a weekend trip to France before uni started up again.  _It’s our last hurrah.  We have to something big, something awesome Lou, please._ Harry had begged, hands and knees, begged.  Like Louis was actually going to refuse a trip to France with his boyfriend.

 

The side of the card opposite the picture has no printed cheesy Hallmark words, just Harry’s neat scribble. 

 

_You are my sunshine._

_xx Haz_

 

There’s arms draping around his neck from behind and Louis leans into the firm body behind him, nuzzling his head up.  Harry’s big hands are played across Louis’ chest as he presses his lips to the top of his head, down his neck until he turns Louis around to kiss his lips properly.  Harry sighs into Louis mouth when they connect, lazily licking into each other.  Louis doesn’t think Harry will ever grow tired of kissing him.  He’s said it multiple times when they’re laying in bed right before they fall asleep.  _I could never grow out of you.  I love you._  Then there’s always Louis’ favorite, _You’re my sunshine, Lou._

“Happy anniversary, Lou.”  Harry says against his lips.

 

“Thought I heard you singing dumb indie love songs from our room.  You’re such a lovesick idiot.”   Louis jokes with a fond tone.

 

Harry pouts but kisses Louis on the tip of the nose. “But I’m _your_ lovesick idiot.”

 

Louis wonders every day how he got so lucky as to wake up next to Harry each morning, with his sleepy voice and half-closed green eyes.  How he got so lucky as to have Harry who treats him like he’s the most precious person in his world.  Louis can’t be thankful enough to have Harry to do stupidly spontaneous things with, rather than having someone who chastises for it.  Louis just loves everything about Harry.  “I love you.” 

 

“Love you too you cheese ball.  Now where are my gifts?”  Harry asks with a shine in his eye like a kid on Christmas morning.  

 

“When we come back from the wedding you can have yours.  We have to get ready or the Man of Honor is going to be late.”  Louis says.  He wets his lips with a dart of his tongue as he eyes Harry up and down.  “Can’t wait to see you in a suit.” 

 

“Try not to faint.  It may be too much of a shock for your body to handle.”  Harry calls over his shoulder as he dramatically saunters into their bedroom.

 

-

 

“My gorgeous darling Harold!”  Dahlia shrieks when Harry and Louis sneak off to a private part of the garden where Mick and Dahlia are taking their wedding photos.  She comes running at them trying her best to hike up her dress so she doesn’t rip it before the ceremony.  Louis clears his throat loudly. 

 

“And his ever charmingly handsome boyfriend, Louis.”  She adds, rolling her eyes.  Her arms wrap around both of their necks in a tight hug.  “Love you guys, thank you so much for coming.”

 

“You look incredible.”  Louis whistles, taking in her dress.  The sweetheart neckline perfectly frames her collarbones, while the clean a-line skirt has lace flower designs embroidered into it.  A small belt encrusted with diamonds sits at her waist, showing off her petite silhouette. She does a spin and the lace sweep train spins at her feet.     

 

Harry cups her face in his hands and plants a kiss on her forehead.  “You look so happy.  Never met a girl more beautiful than you, Dahl.” 

 

“Oh god, I’m getting married!”  She says shrilly, shaking Harry by the shoulders, a piece of her hot pink hair falling to frame her face.  Instead of a veil she has her own chain of white dahlia’s crowning her head.

 

“No going back now!”  Louis laughs putting his arm around Harry’s waist.

 

Dahlia narrows her eyes, “Can it Tomlinson, or I’ll demote your boyfriend to flower girl.”

 

Mick calls Dahlia from the rose archway, and she turns her head quickly before planting kisses on both of their cheeks.  “I’ve got to go back there!  See you in a bit.”  She rubs her hands up and down their arms in a fond gesture.  “Happy anniversary you little love birds.  Don’t think I’ve forgotten just because it’s my big day.”

 

 

-

 

It’s Dahlia’s big moment but Harry can’t take his eyes off of Louis sitting with Dahlia’s family in the first row of white folding chairs.  The pastor could start break dancing on the altar and Harry wouldn’t notice because Louis looks so breathtaking.  He has the sleeves of his white dress shirt with the dark accented collar, rolled up, and his matching braces are thin framing his shoulders.  Harry can hardly believe this time last year they hardly knew each other.  He can’t imagine being with anybody else though.  Harry used to laugh at dumb sayings like, _he’s my other half_ , but that’s what Louis is to Harry.  One day he hopes he and Louis will stand in the same spot as Dahlia and Mick, exchanging promises and rings. 

 

Louis’ blue gaze goes from the altar to Harry and there’s that mischievous glint in his eye that Harry knows all too well.  His heart speeds up because he knows what kind of signal is in his smile.  Louis puts up his hand with all five fingers, and begins counting down as the pastor says, “You may now kiss the bride.”

 

Once the kiss is broken and everyone claps and cheers, Dahlia throws her bouquet of flowers and yells, “Geronimo!”  Louis jumps up from his seat like he’s just taken a cue, and the two of them go running toward the edge of the fountain, jumping in the dragon fountain fully clothed, Dahlia showing no regard for her wedding dress. 

 

“We’re in love with crazy people.”  Mick says gaping at Dahlia and Louis who are laughing loudly, swimming in the fountain and splashing each other. 

 

“I think that’s half the reason we love them so much.”  Harry smiles, lunging forward with a jog until he dives into the cool water himself, Mick on his heels. 

 

Harry breaks the surface gasping for breath and is grabbed by the shoulders.  “My beautiful flower child.”  Louis breathes, looking up at Harry through his wet lashes.  “I love you.”  He says between tender kisses.

 

“I regret introducing you to Dahlia, you two are going to make the world explode one day with your misadventures.”  Harry comments, letting his eyes travel to where Mick is struggling to get Dahlia out of the water without ripping her dress.

 

“It was her idea!”  Louis argues while Harry fixes him with a chastising look.  “Okay, maybe I suggested it, but she told me it was okay! She wanted us to be able to have our special moment too ‘cos this is how it all began.”

 

Harry has a lump in his throat thinking about the love that threatens to spill from every pore in his body for the delicate boy treading water in front of him.  Louis makes him so happy, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

“You’re my sunshine, Lou.”  Harry’s voice cracks as he smiles.

 

“I know.”  Louis replies, kissing him until their lips are red and swollen.  “Loser.”  He says playfully before he dunks Harry under the water. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! 
> 
> Thank you to my job at the local florist for inspiring this, and to Sanya for drawing me adorable fanart and being my personal cheerleader.
> 
> tumblr: hailsatanstyles


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